most powerful allies, and at the same time having secured a passage for
his own troops through their territories, formed a scheme of attacking
the kingdom of Naples, hoping either to overrun that country, which was
left altogether without defence, or that at least such an unexpected
invasion would oblige the viceroy to recall part of the imperial army
out of the Milanese. For this purpose he ordered six thousand men to
march under the command of John Stuart, Duke of Albany. But Pescara,
foreseeing that the effect of this diversion would depend entirely upon
the operations of the armies in the Milanese, persuaded Lannoy to
disregard Albany's motions, and to bend his whole force against the King
himself; so that Francis not only weakened his army very unseasonably by
this great detachment, but incurred the reproach of engaging too rashly
in chimerical and extravagant projects.
By this time the garrison of Pavia was reduced to extremity; their
ammunition and provisions began to fail; the Germans, of whom it was
chiefly composed, having received no pay for seven months, threatened to
deliver the town into the enemy's hands, and could hardly be restrained
from mutiny by all Leyva's address and authority. The imperial generals,
who were no strangers to his situation, saw the necessity of marching
without loss of time to his relief. This they had now in their power.
Twelve thousand Germans, whom the zeal and activity of Bourbon taught to
move with unusual rapidity, had entered Lombardy under his command, and
rendered the imperial army nearly equal to that of the French, greatly
diminished by the absence of the body under Albany, as well as by the
fatigues of the siege and the rigor of the season.
But the more their troops increased in number, the more sensibly did
the imperialists feel the distress arising from want of money. Far from
having funds for paying a powerful army, they had scarcely what was
sufficient for defraying the charges of conducting their artillery and
of carrying their ammunition and provisions. The abilities of the
generals, however, supplied every defect. By their own example, as well
as by magnificent promises in name of the Emperor, they prevailed on the
troops of all the different nations which composed their army to take
the field without pay; they engaged to lead them directly toward the
enemy, and flattered them with the certain prospect of victory, which
would at once enrich them with such royal spoils as would be an ample
reward for all their services. The soldiers, sensible that, by quitting
the army, they would forfeit the great arrears due to them, and eager to
get possession of the promised treasures, demanded a battle with all the
impatience of adventurers who fight only for plunder.
The imperial generals, without suffering the ardor of their troops to
cool, advanced immediately toward the French camp. On the first
intelligence of their approach, Francis called a council of war to
deliberate what course he ought to take. All his officers of greatest
experience were unanimous in advising him to retire, and to decline a
battle with an enemy who courted it from despair. The imperialists, they
observed, would either be obliged in a few weeks to disband an army
which they were unable to pay, and which they kept together only by the
hope of plunder, or the soldiers, enraged at the nonperformance of the
promises to which they had trusted, would rise in some furious mutiny,
which would allow their generals to think of nothing but their own
safety; that meanwhile he might encamp in some strong post, and, waiting
in safety the arrival of fresh troops from France and Switzerland, might
before the end of spring take possession of all the Milanese without
danger or bloodshed. But in opposition to them, Bonnivet, whose destiny
it was to give counsels fatal to France during the whole campaign,
represented the ignominy that it would reflect on their sovereign if he
should abandon a siege which he had prosecuted so long, or turn his back
before an enemy to whom he was still superior in number, and insisted on
the necessity of fighting the imperialists rather than relinquish an
undertaking on the success of which the King's future fame depended.
Unfortunately, Francis' notions of honor were delicate to an excess that
bordered on what was romantic. Having often said that he would take
Pavia or perish in the attempt, he thought himself bound not to depart
from that resolution; and, rather than expose himself to the slightest
imputation, he chose to forego all the advantages which were the certain
consequences of a retreat, and determined to wait for the imperialists
before the walls of Pavia.
The imperial generals found the French so strongly intrenched that,
notwithstanding the powerful motives which urged them on, they hesitated
long before they ventured to attack them; but at last the necessities of
the besieged and the murmurs of their own soldiers obliged them to put
everything to hazard. Never did armies engage with greater ardor or with
a higher opinion of the importance of the battle which they were going
to fight; never were troops more strongly animated with emulation,
national antipathy, mutual resentment, and all the passions which
inspire obstinate bravery. On the one hand, a gallant young monarch,
seconded by a generous nobility and followed by subjects to whose
natural impetuosity indignation at the opposition which they had
encountered added new force, contended for victory and honor. On the
other side, troops more completely disciplined, and conducted by
generals of greater abilities, fought from necessity, with courage
heightened by despair. The imperialists, however, were unable to resist
the first efforts of the French valor, and their firmest battalions
began to give way. But the fortune of the day was quickly changed. The
Swiss in the service of France, unmindful of the reputation of their
country for fidelity and martial glory, abandoned their post in a
cowardly manner. Leyva, with his garrison, sallied out and attacked the
rear of the French, during the heat of the action, with such fury as
threw it into confusion; and Pescara, falling on their cavalry with the
imperial horse, among whom he had prudently intermingled a considerable
number of Spanish foot armed with the heavy muskets then in use, broke
this formidable body by an unusual method of attack, against which they
were wholly unprovided. The rout became universal; and resistance ceased
in almost every part but where the King was in person, who fought now,
not for fame or victory, but for safety. Though wounded in several
places, and thrown from his horse, which was killed under him, Francis
defended himself on foot with a heroic courage.
Many of his bravest officers, gathering round him, and endeavoring to
save his life at the expense of their own, fell at his feet. Among these
was Bonnivet, the author of this great calamity, who alone died
unlamented. The King, exhausted with fatigue, and scarcely capable of
further resistance, was left almost alone, exposed to the fury of some
Spanish soldiers, strangers to his rank and enraged at his obstinacy. At
that moment came up Pomperant, a French gentleman, who had entered
together with Bourbon into the Emperor's service, and, placing himself
by the side of the monarch against whom he had rebelled, assisted in
protecting him from the violence of the soldiers, at the same time
beseeching him to surrender to Bourbon, who was not far distant.
Imminent as the danger was which now surrounded Francis, he rejected
with indignation the thoughts of an action which would have afforded
such matter of triumph to his traitorous subject, and calling for
Lannoy, who happened likewise to be near at hand, gave up his sword to
him; which he, kneeling to kiss the King's hand, received with profound
respect; and taking his own sword from his side, presented it to him,
saying that it did not become so great a monarch to remain disarmed in
the presence of one of the Emperor's subjects.
Ten thousand men fell on this day, one of the most fatal France had ever
seen. Among these were many noblemen of the highest distinction, who
chose rather to perish than to turn their backs with dishonor. Not a few
were taken prisoners, of whom the most illustrious was Henry d'Albret,
the unfortunate King of Navarre. A small body of the rear-guard made its
escape under the command of the Duke of Alencon; the feeble garrison of
Milan, on the first news of the defeat, retired, without being pursued,
by another road; and, in two weeks after the battle, not a Frenchman
remained in Italy.
Lannoy, though he treated Francis with all the outward marks of honor
due to his rank and character, guarded him with the utmost attention. He
was solicitous, not only to prevent any possibility of his escaping,
but afraid that his own troops might seize his person and detain it as
the best security for the payment of their arrears. In order to provide
against both these dangers, he conducted Francis, the day after the
battle, to the strong castle of Pizzichitone, near Cremona, committing
him to the custody of Don Ferdinand Alarcon, general of the Spanish
infantry, an officer of great bravery and of strict honor, but
remarkable for that severe and scrupulous vigilance which such a trust
required.
Francis, who formed a judgment of the Emperor's dispositions by his own,
was extremely desirous that Charles should be informed of his situation,
fondly hoping that from his generosity or sympathy he should obtain
speedy relief. The imperial generals were no less impatient to give
their sovereign an early account of the decisive victory which they had
gained, and to receive his instructions with regard to their future
conduct. As the most certain and expeditious method of conveying
intelligence to Spain at that season of the year was by land, Francis
gave the _commendador_ Pennalosa, who was charged with Lannoy's
despatches, a passport to travel through France.
Charles received the account of this signal and unexpected success that
had crowned his arms with a moderation which, if it had been real, would
have done him more honor than the greatest victory. Without uttering one
word expressive of exultation or of intemperate joy, he retired
immediately into his chapel, and, having spent an hour in offering up
his thanksgivings to heaven, returned to the presence-chamber, which by
that time was filled with grandees and foreign ambassadors assembled in
order to congratulate him. He accepted of their compliments with a
modest deportment; he lamented the misfortune of the captive King, as a
striking example of the sad reverse of fortune to which the most
powerful monarchs are subject; he forbade any public rejoicings, as
indecent in a war carried on among Christians, reserving them until he
should obtain a victory equally illustrious over the infidels; and
seemed to take pleasure, in the advantage which he had gained, only as
it would prove the occasion of restoring peace to Christendom.
Charles, however, had already begun to form schemes in his own mind
which little suited such external appearances. Ambition, not
generosity, was the ruling passion in his mind; and the victory at Pavia
opened such new and unbounded prospects of gratifying it as allured him
with irresistible force. But it being no easy matter to execute the vast
designs which he meditated, he thought it necessary, while proper
measures were taking for that purpose, to affect the greatest
moderation, hoping under that veil to conceal his real intentions from
the other princes of Europe.
Meanwhile France was filled with consternation. The King himself had
early transmitted an account of the rout at Pavia in a letter to his
mother, delivered by Pennalosa, which contained only these words:
"Madam, all is lost except our honor." The officers who made their
escape, when they arrived from Italy, brought such a melancholy detail
of particulars as made all ranks of men sensibly feel the greatness and
extent of the calamity. France, without its sovereign, without money in
her treasury, without an army and without generals to command it, and
encompassed on all sides by a victorious and active enemy, seemed to be
on the very brink of destruction. But on that occasion the great
abilities of Louise, the regent, saved the kingdom which the violence of
her passions had more than once exposed to the greatest danger. Instead
of giving herself up to such lamentations as were natural to a woman so
remarkable for her maternal tenderness, she discovered all the foresight
and exerted all the activity of a consummate politician. She assembled
the nobles at Lyons, and animated them, by her example no less than by
her words, with such zeal in defence of their country as its present
situation required. She collected the remains of the army which had
served in Italy, ransomed the prisoners, paid the arrears, and put them
in a condition to take the field. She levied new troops, provided for
the security of the frontiers, and raised sums sufficient for defraying
these extraordinary expenses. Her chief care, however, was to appease
the resentment or to gain the friendship of the King of England; and
from that quarter the first ray of comfort broke in upon the French.
Though Henry, in entering into alliances with Charles or Francis, seldom
followed any regular or concerted plan of policy, but was influenced
chiefly by the caprice of temporary passions, such occurrences often
happened as recalled his attention toward that equal balance of power
which it was necessary to keep between the two contending potentates,
the preservation of which he always boasted to be his peculiar office.
He had expected that his union with the Emperor might afford him an
opportunity of recovering some part of those territories in France which
had belonged to his ancestors, and for the sake of such an acquisition
he did not scruple to give his assistance toward raising Charles to a
considerable preeminence above Francis. He had never dreamed, however,
of any event so decisive and so fatal as the victory at Pavia, which
seemed not only to have broken, but to have annihilated, the power of
one of the rivals; so that the prospect of the sudden and entire
revolution which this would occasion in the political system filled him
with the most disquieting apprehensions. He saw all Europe in danger of
being overrun by an ambitious prince, to whose power there now remained
no counterpoise; and though he himself might at first be admitted, in
quality of an ally, to some share in the spoils of the captive monarch,
it was easy to discern that with regard to the manner of making the
partition, as well as his security for keeping possession of what should
be allotted him, he must absolutely depend upon the will of a
confederate, to whose forces his own bore no proportion.
He was sensible that if Charles were permitted to add any considerable
part of France to the vast dominions of which he was already master, his
neighborhood would be much more formidable to England than that of the
ancient French kings; while at the same time the proper balance on the
Continent, to which England owed both its safety and importance, would
be entirely lost. Concern for the situation of the unhappy monarch
cooperated with these political considerations; his gallant behavior in
the battle of Pavia had excited a high degree of admiration, which never
fails of augmenting sympathy; and Henry, naturally susceptible of
generous sentiments, was fond of appearing as the deliverer of a
vanquished enemy from a state of captivity. The passions of the English
minister seconded the inclinations of the monarch. Wolsey, who had not
forgotten the disappointment of his hopes in two successive conclaves,
which he imputed chiefly to the Emperor, thought this a proper
opportunity of taking revenge; and, Louise courting the friendship of
England with such flattering submissions as were no less agreeable to
the King than to the Cardinal, Henry gave her secret assurances that he
would not lend his aid toward oppressing France in its present helpless
state, and obliged her to promise that she would not consent to
dismember the kingdom even in order to procure her son's liberty.
During these transactions, Charles, whose pretensions to moderation and
disinterestedness were soon forgotten, deliberated, with the utmost
solicitude, how he might derive the greatest advantages from the
misfortunes of his adversary. Some of his counsellors advised him to
treat Francis with the magnanimity that became a victorious prince, and,
instead of taking advantage of his situation to impose rigorous
conditions, to dismiss him on such equal terms as would bind him forever
to his interest by the ties of gratitude and affection, more forcible as
well as more permanent than any which could be formed by extorted oaths
and involuntary stipulations.
Such an exertion of generosity is not, perhaps, to be expected in the
conduct of political affairs, and it was far too refined for that prince
to whom it was proposed. The more obvious but less splendid scheme, of
endeavoring to make the utmost of Francis' calamity, had a greater
number in the council to recommend it, and suited better with the
Emperor's genius. But though Charles adopted this plan, he seems not to
have executed it in the most proper manner. Instead of making one great
effort to penetrate into France with all the forces of Spain and the Low
Countries; instead of crushing the Italian states before they recovered
from the consternation which the success of his arms had occasioned, he
had recourse to the artifices of intrigue and negotiation. This
proceeded partly from necessity, partly from the natural disposition of
his mind. The situation of his finances at that time rendered it
extremely difficult to carry on any extraordinary armament; and he
himself, having never appeared at the head of his armies, the command of
which he had hitherto committed to his generals, was averse to bold and
martial counsels, and trusted more to the arts with which he was
acquainted. He laid, besides, too much stress upon the victory of
Pavia, as if by that event the strength of France had been annihilated,
its resources exhausted, and the kingdom itself, no less than the person
of its monarch, had been subjected to his power.
Full of this opinion, he determined to set the highest price upon
Francis' freedom; and, having ordered the Count de Roeux to visit the
captive King in his name, he instructed him to propose the following
articles as the conditions on which he would grant him his liberty: That
he should restore Burgundy to the Emperor, from whose ancestors it had
been unjustly wrested; that he should surrender Provence and Dauphine,
that they might be erected into an independent kingdom for the constable
Bourbon; that he should make full satisfaction to the King of England
for all his claims, and finally renounce the pretensions of France to
Naples, Milan, or any other territory in Italy. When Francis, who had
hitherto flattered himself that he should be treated by the Emperor with
the generosity becoming one great prince toward another, heard these
rigorous conditions, he was so transported with indignation that,
drawing his dagger hastily, he cried out, "'Twere better that a king
should die thus." Alarcon, alarmed at his vehemence, laid hold on his
hand; but though he soon recovered greater composure, he still declared
in the most solemn manner that he would rather remain a prisoner during
life than purchase liberty by such ignominious concessions.
The chief obstacle that stood in the way of Francis' liberty was the
Emperor's continuing to insist so peremptorily on the restitution of
Burgundy as a preliminary to that event. Francis often declared that he
would never consent to dismember his kingdom; and that, even if he
should so far forget the duties of a monarch as to come to such a
resolution, the fundamental laws of the nation would prevent its taking
effect. On his part he was willing to make an absolute cession to the
Emperor of all his pretensions in Italy and the Low Countries; he
promised to restore to Bourbon all his lands which had been confiscated;
he renewed his proposal of marrying the Emperor's sister, the
queen-dowager of Portugal; and engaged to pay a great sum by way of
ransom for his own person.
But all mutual esteem and confidence between the two monarchs were now
entirely lost; there appeared, on the one hand, a rapacious ambition,
laboring to avail itself of every favorable circumstance; on the other,
suspicion and resentment, standing perpetually on their guard; so that
the prospect of bringing their negotiations to an issure seemed to be
far distant. The Duchess of Alencon, the French King's sister, whom
Charles permitted to visit her brother in his confinement, employed all
her address in order to procure his liberty on more reasonable terms.
Henry of England interposed his good offices to the same purpose; but
both with so little success that Francis, in despair, took suddenly the
resolution of resigning his crown, with all its rights and prerogatives,
to his son, the Dauphin, determining rather to end his days in prison
than to purchase his freedom by concessions unworthy of a king. The deed
for this purpose he signed with legal formality in Madrid, empowering
his sister to carry it into France, that it might be registered in all
the parliaments of the kingdom; and, at the same time, intimating his
intention to the Emperor, he desired him to name the place of his
confinement, and to assign him a proper number of attendants during the
remainder of his days.
This resolution of the French King had great effect; Charles began to be
sensible that, by pushing rigor to excess, he might defeat his own
measures; and instead of the vast advantages which he hoped to draw from
ransoming a powerful monarch, he might at last find in his hands a
prince without dominions or revenues. About the same time one of the
King of Navarre's domestics happened, by an extraordinary exertion of
fidelity, courage, and address, to procure his master an opportunity of
escaping from the prison in which he had been confined ever since the
battle of Pavia. This convinced the Emperor that the most vigilant
attention of his officers might be eluded by the ingenuity or boldness
of Francis or his attendants, and one unlucky hour might deprive him of
all the advantages which he had been so solicitous to obtain. By these
considerations he was induced to abate somewhat of his former demands.
On the other hand, Francis' impatience under confinement daily
increased; and having received certain intelligence of a powerful league
forming against his rival in Italy, he grew more compliant with regard
to his concessions, trusting that, if he could once obtain his liberty,
he would soon be in a condition to resume whatever he had yielded.
Such being the views and sentiments of the two monarchs, the treaty
which procured Francis his liberty was signed at Madrid on January 14,
1526.
SACK OF ROME BY THE IMPERIAL TROOPS
A.D. 1527
BENVENUTO CELLINI T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
Charles, Duc de Bourbon, known as the Constable de Bourbon,
became famous in the wars of the emperor Charles V with
Francis I, King of France. The vast estates of both branches
of the Bourbon family were united in the possession of the
Constable, making him a person of importance independently
of his military career. He was born in 1490, and was made
Constable of France for his services at the battle of
Melegnano (1515), in which Francis gained a brilliant
victory over the Swiss.